After a Fashion
by WillowDryad
Summary: Peter and Edmund would do anything for their sisters, but, even on Sweethearts' Day, there is a limit. A Valentine's Day story. Golden Age. No slash.


**Disclaimer: Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. **

AFTER A FASHION

"You have lost your mind."

Peter slowed as he passed his brother's room, wondering what was going on now, but for a moment there was only silence. Then he heard his brother's voice again.

"No, I'm not."

Peter stopped, still listening.

"I'm not and you can't make me," Edmund said, almost shouting now.

Was he talking to himself?

Peter pushed open the door, peering around it. "Ed?"

Edmund was standing there in front of his mirror in his breeches and boots and a light linen undershirt. On the table beside him stood Scrabble, the chief of his Mouse tailors, with what was obviously his latest creation clutched in his tiny paws. When he saw Peter, he bowed.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty."

Peter smiled, bowing in return. No wonder he hadn't heard anything but Edmund's side of the conversation. Even if they were bigger than the ones from the Other Place, Mice were still tiny and had voices to match.

"Good afternoon, Master Scrabble. What is this?"

Edmund huffed. "Peeeter."

"Great Lion, Edmund, you're eleven years old. Don't whine."

"But look at what I'm supposed to wear for this stupid dance Susan is giving."

He took the wadded garment from the Mouse and held it up with two disdainful fingers. Peter bit his lip, trying not to laugh, but . . .

"Uh, well, it's very nicely made. Well done, Master Scrabble."

The Mouse bowed but still looked quite affronted.

"It's not how it's made that bothers me," Edmund said. "Look at it! It's pink!"

"Burgundy, Sire," the Mouse insisted.

"It's pink!"

Peter took the tunic and handed it respectfully back to Scrabble. "Perhaps another color–"

"Forgive me, High King, but it was by order of the Queen Susan. She said that, for Sweetheart's Day, it must be this color. She chose it herself."

"Then she can wear it herself," Edmund spat, "because _I _certainly am not."

"Come on, Ed," Peter soothed. "It's a nice color. You have tunics this color already, or nearly this color. The one you wore when the Galmian ambassador was here was just a little darker."

"That one," Edmund said with a poisonous glare at his tailor, "did not have lace on it."

As best he was able, the Mouse looked down his nose at Edmund. "The lace was Queen Susan's particular request. She says it is the latest fashion for gentlemen in Terebinthia and thinks it will be quite popular here in Narnia as well."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Edmund grumbled.

"Now be nice, Edmund," Peter said. "It's our first Valentine's– uh, I mean Sweetheart's Day here in Narnia. If we're supposed to–"

"Not me. I'm not supposed to wear pink velvet tunics with lace. It's in my contract."

"It's burgundy, and what contract?"

Edmund thrust out his chin. "My King contract."

"Edmund."

"It is. Just look for yourself."

"You don't have a contract. There's no such thing as a King contract."

Edmund huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "There _should_ be. Then stuff like this wouldn't happen."

"Come on, Ed. It's just for a couple of hours. And if it makes Su happy, well–"

"I'm. Not. Wearing it."

And before Peter could stop him, Edmund snatched up the offending garment and flung it into the ornamental fountain in the garden below.

"Ed!"

Scrabble scampered to the window, looking down in horror as the tunic floated for a desperate moment and then sank, completely submerged. Peter wasn't sure there weren't tears in the little tailor's round black eyes.

"Oh, Your Majesty."

"Edmund," Peter scolded. "That was not nice. Apologize."

Edmund set his jaw and said nothing.

"Edmund, I mean it."

"Fine." Edmund bowed stiffly to the Mouse. "I'm sorry Susan had you make such a stupid looking tunic."

"Ed!"

"Okay!" Again Edmund huffed. "I'm sorry, Scrabble. I know it's not your fault, but Susan–"

"She _is_ Queen, My Lord, and I must obey."

"I know."

Edmund sighed disconsolately, and Peter put one arm around his shoulders.

"Buck up, Ed. Duty isn't always easy, and besides, don't we want to make Susan happy? She does so much to take care of us."

"I know."

"All right then," Peter said, giving him an encouraging smile. "Now, can't we just let the tunic dry, Master Scrabble? It'll be all right, won't it?"

"I fear not, High King." The Mouse gave his head a mournful shake. "The velvet will be ruined."

Peter thought for a moment. "Hmmm, I know there's not much time before the ball, but couldn't you make another one? Surely you have more of that velvet and lace."

"No, Your Majesty. We used the rest of it for _your_ Sweethearts' Day tunic."

Peter's eyes widened. "My–?"

Edmund's mouth dropped open, and then he turned his sweetest smile on his brother. "Don't we want to make Susan happy, Peter?"

"I– We– She–"

"It was the Queen's command, High King," Scrabble said gravely.

Susan!"Peter roared. "Susan, where are you!"

He darted from the room.

Their resulting argument echoed through the halls of the Cair.

**Author's Note: Lady Alambiel decided we'd try writing stories with the same common elements: opening sentence: "You have lost your mind," a very small creature, sewing, submersion and closing sentence: "Their resulting argument echoed through the halls of the Cair." Hers is called "Sister, Sister." Go read it! Even with the same elements, they turned out very differently.**

**P. S. Lady Alambiel is the one who came up with the idea of Sweethearts' Day, thinking that since the Narnians had no St. Valentine, the day of love would need another name, as explained in her story "Will You Be My Sweetheart?." She has graciously allowed me to use the tradition in my stories, too. Thank you, Lady A!**


End file.
